Amber is awake now and talking. Her visitors are still restricted to the immediate family, so, not being an actual blood relative, EJ and I are relying on her brother and grandfather to keep us updated. But don't stop praying. She has a long way to go.
The scallop boat man is back. He calls me "Miss Debi". Is that pathetic or what? Someone get me an apron, I guess its time for me to bake cookies.
Roger is finally home from the hospital, and its so nice to have him back. It was like old times yesterday, having him come over and hang out.
Tomorrow will be four years since Travis was wounded in Hit, Iraq. I think about what it must have been like for him, and a little part of me seems to die inside. My brave young son. And yes, though many seem to think it would be better otherwise, he was my son. My son. And no one, no matter what they say or think of me, can take that away.
This comment was left when I was bitching about John McCain having a bracelet with Travis' name on it on his desk. I said that many people loved Travis, not just me, and I acknowledged that. I said I wanted that bracelet. Just like any parent who has lost a child, anything that represents that child is precious, and you are greedy about it, you want it, its hard to share. But somehow this comment hurt me so much. It bothered me for days. Perhaps its because it came from someone who loved Travis, and he loved as well.
Would this hurt you? Anybody? Am I over-reacting? It still hurts to read it. A lot. I why the "DY"? What's wrong with Mrs. Youngblood, or just plain old Debi? Somebody help me out here...